Allegiances
by Kylisa
Summary: When a young Herald is recalled from her internship shortly after getting her Whites and reassigned to a scouting mission, she begins to have misgivings about her position and her life as a Herald. But those thoughts are quickly banished, when –


Disclaimer: I don't own the any of the concepts or people created by Mercedes Lackey, but the OC's are mine…

Chapter 1:

A resigned Kethra pushed her hair out of her eyes, cursing as the thrice-damned rain obscured her already-blurred vision.  Water dripped down her face and into her clothes, over-soaked with water to absorb anymore.  She shivered, drawing her cloak more tightly around her cold body, for all the good that it did her.

Half-heartedly, she swore.  And people wondered _why_ she hated springtime.  Well, they would have their answer right here.  Vaguely, an old adage popped into her mind: _'With Spring showers, doth come flowers'._

Huh.  The flowers could have gone to hell, for all that she cared.  She wouldn't bawl over the loss.

_:You know,:_  An irritated and almost mournful masculine voice sounded mentally.  _:It _could_ be worse for you.  You are _not _the one wallowing through this –:_ Here, his voice became distasteful. _:– muck.:_

Her hand crawled out slowly from beneath her cloak, and she absently stroked the drenched silk of her Companion, noting its unnatural softness even though the rain played havoc with it, knotting his mane into wet and tangled lumps.  _:I didn't ask for this assignment, Lansyr.:_

_:Did I say that?:_ He plodded slowly up the mud-washed road. _:I _know_ you didn't ask for it.  I just wish we were back home.: _He whinnied softly, and she heard his wistful, yearning tone.  She bit back a grin, even in the disgusting weather.  He just wanted to be back with his mate.  And child.

_:The sentiment's shared.:_ Her teeth chattered slightly, and she clenched her jaw tightly in an effort to stop.  _:I'll clean you up the next chance I get.:_  She promised.

_:You'd better.:_ Was all the reply he gave, at the same time mind-sending her an image of a sneezing companion with a bright red nose.  A giggle burst from her unintentionally, and she hastily stifled it.  One had to be careful around these parts.  More precisely, across the Karsite-Valdemar border.  And that was her assignment, the one that called her back from her yearlong internship with an older Herald: to scout out and spy on the surrounding areas for any suspicious ongoings, to watch for anything…inconspicuous, and to report her findings within the week.  It was a one man – or technically speaking, one woman – 

_:And Companion,:_ Lansyr interjected.

 – job, and she had been on the road for three days.  Or was it four?  She had lost track of time, seeing as it had been raining ever since she entered Karse.  The days were constantly dreary and dark, and she had given up trying to remember how long she had been on this assignment.  However, she was beginning to feel uneasy.  The message she was getting when she was first given this job ran two ways: this was a very dangerous assignment, and the fact that the Queen and her advisors had deemed her suited for the job boosted her ego considerably.  They were putting a lot of trust into her, and this made her proud of herself –

– _but_ every job had its risks, and this was no exception.  Spies did not survive long if they were caught.  Which brought her to her other musing – why _her_?  She had no training as a scout, thief, or spy.  So – why?  Was she…expendable?  She _was_ just another Herald, one easily replaced with other Herald-trainees coming into the Collegium every year.  It wasn't a big loss if something happened to her?

 And if that was the case – well, she didn't really relish the thought of that.

Her mood soured even further as the rain beat out a heavier crescendo on her back, the wind picking up speed.

_:You're _not_ expendable, Chosen.:_ Lansyr gently rebuked. _ :No Herald ever is.:_  As an afterthought, he added, _:Especially since you're with _us_ Companions, and we're most definitely _not_ expendable.:_

That prompted a snort from her, but she chose not to answer that, instead hoping that he was right.  But it _still_ didn't make sense.  _Why_ send her out into enemy territory – alone?  What happened if she was ambushed, or injured, or even _killed?_  She couldn't rely entirely on Lansyr to make it safely back to warn the rest, were a situation akin to the Queen's Own Talia to occur to her.  They _were _in a war of sorts, after all.

_:You have a lot of faith in me,: _Lansyr's tone was dry.

_:It's not you, dear.:_ She shuddered as images flooded her mind. _:I'm – remembering  the last town we saw.:_  It had been a total massacre, with the villager's throats all ripped out, their limbs ripped asunder.  Even now, thinking about it forced bile up her throat, and she had to fight to keep her food down.  _:I'd bet anything that some priest had called up demons to do that.:_  The townsfolk did not stand a chance, not with pitchforks and scythes against _demons_.  And she _would_ know.

_:Ah.:_ Lansyr's voice was sad. _:At least you gave them a decent funeral.  That was the least they deserved.:_

Kethra was silent.  He was talking about her Gift, that of fire-starting, for she had called upon her ability to create fire and kindled the entire area, ensuring that no predators would ever get at their corpses _and_ at the same time cremating them, giving them a funeral no one else would.  As far as she knew, there weren't too many fire-starters mentioned or recorded in the course of history, the most famous of whom was Lavan Firestorm.  Was she the first female in history to have the Gift?  She didn't know, nor did she care.  She hated it, and that was all.  It had cost her too much already.

_:Chosen, will you stop beating yourself up over that?  It was _not_ your fault.:_

Yes it was.  Her disposition took a turn for the worse as she touched upon a sensitive moment of her past.  A few bullies intending more than just 'casual talk' had accosted her when she was fourteen, and once the initial shock and fright had worn off, there was just – fury.  An indescribable fury which filled her throat, one which literally made her see red.  She remembered what happened next vividly, as if the memory had occurred just yesterday and not over three years ago: something inside her had snapped, and her rage began _flowing_ out of her in an unstoppable torrent – and it came in the form of fire –

The leader was the first to notice the smoking grass.  Startled, he pulled back from her, and stared incredulously at the smouldering grass.

"What the _hell_ –?" He exclaimed, even as the grass ignited into a small flame, one which quickly blossomed into a raging fire.  He screamed as the flames licked him, releasing his grip on her and backing away rapidly, even as the fire began spreading with an unnatural speed, expanding outwards from her.  It curled almost lazily towards the remainder of the boys, and they fled, shrieking about her.  Hazily, she heard them associating the word, "Witch" with her name.  It matter nothing to her though.  There was only the crimson redness that obscured her vision, the angry mist that killed all thoughts and left her with an instinct to survive.  She was going to make those boys pay for trying to hurt her, and – 

– then she realized what exactly was going on.

The miasma disappeared as quickly as it had descended upon her, leaving her with an empty, thirsty void, yearning for more of the hatred that had fuelled her moments before – and she loathed herself for that.  But that wasn't the only problem.

The rage was gone, sure, but the fire was still there.  Raging, raging, burning – out of control – so many screams of people dying – her few friends, her parents, innocent children – 

_:An accident, no more.  You could not have known that your powers would go rogue on you.:_  Lansyr's voice gently sliced through her reverie, and an unexpected blast of unconditional love caught her unawares, causing her to choke on a sob.

A tear slid down her cheek, intermingling with the wetness of the rain, before she dashed it away.  _:I hope not.:_  She forced out a smile.  _:You would never have Chosen me if I was a murderer.:_

_:You are not a murderer.: _His voice was stern. _:And that's why I Chose you –:_

Whatever else he had meant to say was lost, however, as he reared up, screaming in fury, shying to the side swiftly, but all of his efforts weren't enough to prevent the arrow from striking its intended target just below the ribs soundly….

Please review, and let me know if you think I should continue this…


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